Hand Shadows

---

 July 1, 2019 

Your path followed the hill to some supersymmetry 

awaiting sticky as spider web.

Robbed out of the sky when you looked at me

the hue caused distinction to ebb. 

Words influence 

how we misrepresent the soul 

since the feeling about to commence 

begins with the toe - 

and works up like a wolf at my bed. 

****

How wide is my proximity? 

My soul is the clay of words 

shaped into some kind of thing for the table. 

Roots outgrow the pot using up all the dirt 

in case there are buried unpleasantries. 

I’m facing the sun 

toward your contemplation room

of infinite space 

and remember a photo

of two photons sharing a physical state. 

Each the other’s mirror, 

made no matter

how far apart… 

Can you touch me through my clothes?

Love comes from the outer spaces 

but monsters do lurk in the nicest of places

…as it erewhile made…Lamia melt into a shade *

Facetious interloper

in the meadow 

upon whom is your hand laid 

in the gathering 

and left withering 

between dinner plates 

awaiting arrangement.                    

Keats *                                  2019                 

****

In my pockets laundered love poems faded 

I spend nights 

reading between the lines of shreds 

driven to madness inside my very door 

folding clothes. 

Words wash to the ocean, words lost at sea,

there’s not a particle left of the alphabet soup 

that wrote of you and me 

poured down the sink.

****

Are you wise or do you surmise approximation 

of angels wings and heaven’s strings 

when mother’s hand went away. 

The rainbow absorbed by your gray is black by day 

I am blinded by the raiment of your skin, 

I know you only from within.

If you’ve been cruel, you’ve been nice, 

thin lips, blades slicing out. 

Mirrors you hand me keep handing me back`

to dwell on my own perfection of doubt. 

You lay over me sucked out every ounce of breath 

replaced it with your own then bade me stop talk. 

I heard a new term: transcendental a priori 

Does that mean love is love inside love 

or does it mean we’ve run out of concepts for the unknown?

****

Cruel April 

Yellow yellow gray gray day on fire set for whim 

alerts solemn Iris chill winds calm 

from refrain burst a partial psalm 

enfolded, startles a nodding stem 

that nearly undressed with just enough flare 

deceives a bird by such pretense to be so blessed

had covenant with each ribbon falling from her hair 

placed back in the box to reopen again only self-possessed 

for North still comes and closes the array not ready yet 

forsythia blooms alone refract of her sisters 

and without compliment to her silhouette

behaves as if she could make the wish hers,

noticed from out a closed window 

and tease in sunny color, mistrusted though. 

****

Baby Rene

don't let me smother you asleep

no one will hit you down in the street and

tell you they don't like the hand

of your penciled cry

baby Rene your skin is so cold

and the stain left when he twisted

your head marks a rose.

Hidden in the suitcase

will he understand

your stiff body relaxes my heart

your skin will never grow old

in the dark. How did you come to be left face down?      1988      

****

Don't leave me

You go away, I follow,

a wall of roses shudders flung.

Eve stems somewhere red

un-replenished hill departed,

waves when wind      

blows a nail.                               1987

****

Your mythology is the sweet

of my decay.  I am blind

(you are not here), my mind

is your syllable.  We married

on your mother's bed, your

father wakeful as I acquired

your shape and left adrift

of the mooring you formed for me.         1991

****

To Miss St. Vincent Millay

Warped moon a valley ascends

rue voice shade laid pearl,

trees breeze no longer orphaned

where fears cheers begin

apparent only after absence fingering

mirrors laughter eclipsed while lingering.

Lonely past her

surd night tone,

Edna, no moon

recollects alone.                       1987                                                

****

Folding chair and sour stair

case a path to you.  Wear my view

vaque resemblance, overcome

despair at diggers depth impression.

Behind the curtain my gaze

has to be in your direction

still steeped in another color

lake.  Your name took

possession of my notebook.                           1988

****

I still like the body of a church

I like that house that stands in a park

to alleviate the dark, 

a sleeper who sleeps 

in an icy pavement zone 

keeps the keeper

on consignment auctioned,

valley views thru sweet corn

but we drive on our dog is ill.

****

I cannot utter my first words.

My room perspires dry flies.

I lay here and think about vacuuming.

My cat is dead.

I would be closer to you if 

someone were to mention your name in my vicinity

and very close to you if 

I heard your name all the time except for television.  

Rock and Roll and stars

and dull melancholy empty in a chair.

****

Summer in Seckau

Welcher von beiden ist mehr klug

ein Vogel oder Frosch im einzelnen Zug.

Der Vogel frisst den Wurm, der Frosch die Fliege,

Ich denke in Ruhe auf meiner Gartenliege.

Doch ist jeder reich in der Luft und dem Teich,

und nichts muss in der Sonne fragen,

was der Tag heute wird tragen.